The Devil To Pay (Hennessey.)

by Marnie Perry

  That the man she had befriended, had gotten to know, had had dinner with, had been on a ferry ride to Ship Island with, had liked and trusted and defended to him and Sullivan was a conman and had set out to use her mercilessly.

  He leaned further towards her and put his hand on her knee saying, ‘look, Miss. Faraday I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. In fact I shouldn’t have told you at all, but we really don’t know anything conclusive yet.’ When she didn’t answer he got up and came around the coffee table to her and squatted down in front of her. Taking her cold hand in his he urged gently, ‘Miss. Faraday, Adela.’

  She did look at him now and his heart went out to her, he saw now that it was much more than liking she had felt for Sterling Hennessey, more than fondness. Her eyes were so filled with hurt and pain that he wanted to reach out and hold her to him but he knew he mustn’t. He wanted to offer her comforting and reassuring words but he knew there were none.

  She was looking back at him then suddenly pushed him away, leapt to her feet and ran into the bathroom where he heard her heaving. He stayed where he was for a few moments then rose to his feet and ran a hand through his already untidy hair.

  ********

  Hennessey was lying on his motel bed his hands behind his head well pleased with himself. He had cleaned and scrubbed the place and it looked better, not wonderful but it would suffice. He had laid out all the things he would need for his plan and once he had her there and had extracted the information he wanted he would go find Desi, get his money and get the fuck out of this God forsaken country. He had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but it had, thanks to that asshole Maxwell. Still, he would try one last time to reason with her, to get her trust him again.

  He closed his eyes, he had to admit he was tired but then who wouldn’t be after the day he’d had. So he cursed loudly and eloquently when his phone rang. He bent down and snatched it from the bedside table. Glissando. The prick had been calling all day and always at the most inconvenient time. Typical. He was in two minds whether to answer but then shrugged. He would tell him that tomorrow he would have the information he required and that he was on his way to pick up Desi. He put the phone to his ear and said simply, ‘Glissando.’

  ‘Ah, Mr. Hennessey.’ Glissando sounded as if he had something stuck in his throat, ‘I was wondering whether you would answer, or even could answer.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Well, I thought you might be cooling your heels in a jail cell in li’l ole Eden.’

  Hennessey was surprised but it did not show in his tone, ‘why would you think that?’

  ‘Well with the entire sheriff’s department after you, not to mention two of Gulfport’s finest detectives.’

  ‘Really? I’m honoured.’ Hennessey was sounding blasé but was wondering how the hell Glissando had found out about Maxwell.

  ‘I knew it wouldn’t be long before you screwed up, Hennessey, were you waiting until you could really screw up big time? Go out with a bang so to speak.’

  Hennessey controlled his own temper with difficulty and said calmly, ‘so the plan to seduce her into submission…which by the way was yours not mine…has failed, but there are other ways as you so correctly pointed out.’

  Glissando’s voice dripped with contempt, ‘so what happened, Hennessey, lost your touch with the ladies, couldn’t get it up, or is she a dyke?’

  Hennessey swore right there and then that no matter what happened afterwards he would kill Glissando, and not quickly. His voice was very calm as he said, ‘something happened that was beyond my control, just as Desi fleeing your loving embrace was beyond yours, Glissando. But unlike you I don’t call on others to do my dirty work for me, I rely on my own talents and wits.’

  Glissando sounded now as if she was choking on whatever it was that was stuck in his throat, ‘I suppose you’ll be in hiding about now all set to flee the country no doubt, with my money.’

  ‘I earned that money, Glissando, let’s call it expenses. But anyway, I’m not fleeing anywhere until the job is done. By this time tomorrow I’ll be on my way to wherever Desi is.’

  Glissando snorted, ‘unless you meet another bookstore owner and decide to beat holy crap out of him of course.’

  Hennessey’s grip on his phone almost broke it into two as he said, ‘just out of curiosity, Glissando, who in Eden is on your pay? The good sheriff, the barkeep, or is it the good lady haberdasher?’

  Glissando sounded almost joyful now, ‘wouldn’t you like to know? Like you I’m a distrustful soul, Mr. Hennessey, you didn’t think I would let you loose by yourself with something so important at stake did you? I like to keep tabs on my… employees.’

  Hennessey’s phone made a cracking sound, ‘not close enough tabs on all your employees though hey, Glissando, or I wouldn’t be here right now.’

  There was a silence from the other end of the line and Hennessey grinned with satisfaction.

  It sounded as though Glissando was speaking through clenched teeth as he said, ‘well Hennessey your services are no longer required. I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place. I'm sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to Eden to finish what you obviously couldn't.’

  Now it was Hennessey’s turn to be rendered speechless but only for a moment before he replied very quietly, ‘and just what will they do, Glissando, beat it out of her? They’ll probably end up killing her, then you’ll be back where you started with no leads as to Desi’s whereabouts and no Desi. If you leave it to those two jerk offs you’ll never find her.’

  ‘As you said, Mr. Hennessey there is more than one way to skin a cat, or an English woman. I know she’s still in Eden, at least until tomorrow when she leaves for Georgia, or thinks she will. My men will head her off and bring her here and I’ll get the information I require, without the use of expensive meals and ferry rides or even sexual persuasion, not that that went too well.’

  To Glissando’s surprise Hennessey laughed, ‘yeah, you could do that, Mr. Glissando, if Laurel and Hardy get there before I do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, like you said, I’m an untrusting soul, and you’re not the only one with connections in Eden, the promise of a share of five million dollars goes a long way to persuading a hard up local to be your eyes and ears…and tongue. Maybe even one of Gulfport’s finest as you called them.' He was lying of course, he would never trust anyone else, unlike Glissando he did his own dirty work.

  The silence was longer this time as Glissando digested this, then he said, ‘I don’t believe you, Hennessey, and even if I did, my men are on there way there now, and they’re not wanted by the entire Eden Sheriff’s office. And they’re ex -federal agents; they have connections in the FBI and other elite agencies, which I believe outdoes your city detectives hands down.’

  Glissando wasn’t lying Hennessey knew, his two goons were on their way. He said, ‘yeah, but on there way is not here right now is it.’

  Glissando was silent for a long time he was obviously thinking about this then he sighed deeply, ‘all right, Hennessey, if you get there first and get the information from her before my men arrive I’ll keep my end of the bargain and you get your money. But if not I expect you to be a sport and not get in their way, and you can keep the million I gave you for services rendered.’

  Hennessey hesitated. He felt like saying, or I could just kill your two henchmen. But then that would create more problems, Glissando might send more men, he might even inform the authorities, anonymously of course that he was still in Mississippi, or he would probably bring in his contacts at the FBI then he could kiss goodbye to the rest of his money. He said, ‘so the race is on.’

  There was a smile in Glissando’s voice now, ‘and may the best man or men win, Mr. Hennessey.’

  ‘Oh I will, Mr. Glissando.’ Then he hung up.

  He sat a moment looking down at his phone, damn that bastard and damn those two assholes. He looked at his watch, 8.30; he had int
ended to make his move on Miss. Faraday tomorrow when she left for Georgia. He had posed as a cab driver a few times in his career, a cop, a chauffeur too once, he had been a lot of things once. This time he intended to use the cab driver disguise and turn up to take her to the train station, or if she had decided at the last moment to change her plans he was prepared for that too. But now he would have to act tonight, he was mad about that, he was tired and needed to rest. Still once he had her at the shack and safe from Glissando’s goons he could rest all he wanted.

  He leapt off the bed and grabbed his bag not bothering to check it again; he knew he had everything he needed in there. He looked at his watch again, 8.45 it would soon be dark. He put the bag over his shoulder, put his Glock in its holster and left the motel.

  *********

  Adela was sitting on the sofa just staring into space; she had been sitting there since Leyton had left. She knew he had been torn between wanting to stay and making sure she was all right after she had embarrassed herself, and wanting to get the raincoat back to headquarters as soon as possible. That in itself proved that this Blakemore was a person of great interest to the police. Maybe Hennessey had beaten this guy up too, maybe worse than Dean even. The connotations of that were too unbearable to contemplate.

  But she had assured him she would be all right and she knew how busy he must be. To his credit, if it had not been for the coat she knew he would have been reluctant to leave. But leave he did and she was glad that he had, he reminded her too much of everything that had happened, and more than anything she did not want to be reminded. Not that it would be easy to forget, how could she ever forget how she had been taken in, how she had fallen for Hennessey’s charms, she sensible Adela Anne Faraday.

  That reminded of her the time he had called her by her full name. She knew now that she hadn’t told him, it was Dean she had told, Dean and no one else. It was obvious he was a con man, after only one thing, her money. How he had known she had money she didn’t know, but there are ways of finding out these things she supposed. He might not have known how rich she actually was, but she was here doing a tour of the country and she had told him she had bought a house, he must have realised she was wealthy.. But that didn’t answer all her questions, not by a long way. She knew that Leyton had kept something back about Hennessey's false identities, maybe that those people were dead and Hennessey was using their identities, ghosting, she knew from her books it was called.

  But more importantly than any of that, oh so much more importantly than that, he had hurt Dean, maybe irrevocably. She looked at her hands at the dried blood under her finger nails; she wondered whether she would ever get them clean again.

  Just before he left Leyton had told her that none of what had happened had been her fault that she was not to blame for any of it. She had thought how nice he was to say that, but nice made no difference to how she felt; she knew that it was partly her fault

  and she did blame herself, she always would. She knew that if she had not liked him so much, had not encouraged him, he would have moved on and what had happened to Dean would not have happened.

  Leyton had also reiterated what he had said previously that the raincoat might mean nothing, it was suspicious yes, but there might be a completely innocent explanation. She had given him a “nice try” look and he had looked a little shamefaced and told her to get some sleep then he had left.

  She leaned back on the cushions and closed her eyes, she would sleep here tonight and tomorrow she would leave Mississippi and try as Leyton had said to put all this behind her.

  Leyton was also right when he said the timing was good, she did not want to spend any more time in the cabin that she absolutely had to, she could not have slept in that bed again. That bed is where she had let him touch her, her face, her hair, her breasts, her most secret places. That is where he had kissed her; make love to her, where he had uttered such sweet, beautiful words to her. But it had all been a lie, every time he had kissed her, or stroked her cheek, or touched her had been a lie. All the loving, gentle, soft words he had uttered had been a lie.

  The only thing that had been true about their relationship had been her feelings for him; she had not faked her interest in him. Everything she had said she had meant, everything she had felt had been real, only too real. She had not faked her reaction to him in that bed, and now she felt sick when she thought of it. She had succumbed to him so easily; she had let her feelings betray her; she had let her body betray her. At least he had not completed the act of lovemaking by having full intercourse with her and for that she didn’t know whether to be grateful or insulted.

  ********

  Ellis Leyton was as excited as he hadn’t been for a long while. When he’d gotten the call from Adela Faraday and she had told him that she had something he might be interested in, he thought it might be something Hennessey had given her, a gift perhaps or something he had left behind that she thought they might find useful in their investigation. But never could he have imagined what she had given him.

  Duncan Blakemore had been shot once at close range in his own bed, in his own home. A house surrounded by high walls and barb wire fencing with vicious dogs and equally vicious men guarding it. Nevertheless someone had gotten in and killed him, not that the local cops had really cared too much, in fact it was the best thing that could have happened to him. Blakemore was a first class bastard, covering up illegal activities with legitimate business dealings. He hid his real character, that of being a drug dealing murderer behind philanthropy.

  He had been well known for his charitable donations, even once donating a new school to his neighbourhood and his murder had made headline news across the southern states. But every cop in the south knew he was a class A criminal, a mobster, but could never prove it. Still, a murder was a murder and they had has to investigate just the same as if he’d been an innocent law abiding citizen. But after almost two weeks the Tennessee PD had absolutely no clues, no one saw anything, no one heard anything or at least no one admitted to seeing or hearing anything.

  At first they had suspected one of his own employees, because there had been no sign of a break in, no footprints, no fingerprints, nothing. They just couldn’t figure out how it had been done.

  The only thing they had to go on was that Blakemore’s car had been stolen; it had obviously been used as the getaway car. But the most interesting thing, the thing that convinced the Tennessee detectives that it wasn’t one of Blakemore’s own men who had been responsible for his murder, was that the body of his suspected business partner was found in the trunk of Blakemore’s car.

  Jeffrey Stanton was a silent partner, so silent in fact that nothing could ever be proved against him. Before his untimely…or timely depending on which side of the law you were on…death, hardly anyone knew who he was, or at least his real name, and very few people knew what he looked like and even fewer where he lived. He had also been shot point black with the same gun.

  The fact was that all the evidence, in particular the raincoat, all pointed to Hennessey being at least involved in Blakemore’s murder. This was now more than an investigation into an attempted murder but an investigation into an actual murder.

  He knew she had not believed his story about not knowing who Blakemore was, he had not been able to hide his excitement. And he should not have told Miss. Faraday about Hennessey’s pseudonyms, but he had been angry and had just blurted it out. Plus, she had a way with her, a quiet, softly spoken but firm way of asking questions that had stumped him for a moment there. Thank goodness he had had the sense not to tell her that the men whose identities he'd stolen were all dead. Not that Hennessey had killed them, they had been dead for more than thirty years. Still, he should not have done it, Sullivan would be furious.

  Although he had been excited and had wanted to get the coat to forensics and checked out he had hated leaving her like that. When she had emerged from the bathroom she had looked white and ill and had been very embarrassed that she had lost co
ntrol like she had. She was merely a witness to a crime, a witness like many others he had interviewed in his career, but he felt sorry for her, sorry that she had gotten involved with a man like Hennessey, who was obviously a con man as she had so accurately put it, and now a man who might well be a murderer.

  He was angry with himself, he had not been able to hide what he’d been thinking and she had picked up on it. He had to admit she was very astute. But unfortunately not astute enough, she had not seen what Hennessey was. She had taken him at face value, she had believed his stories, believed his lies and been deceived. But then maybe she had seen only what she had wanted to see, believed only what she had wanted to believe. Maybe her talent for picking up on a lie or deceit had failed her this time because she had liked him so very much and it had rendered her blind to what he truly was. They say that love is blind, well he knew now that there was some truth in that.

  He had hovered around uncertain about what to do or say and she had been aware of that, and of the fact that he wanted to go and continue the investigation with this new evidence; she knew he had been embarrassed by that. So he had gotten her some water, seen her settled on the sofa then left.

  He and Sullivan were now in their lieutenant’s office, with the assistant D.A. Diane Lang and a forensics guy by the name of Jeremy Hooper. Although there were only five people present the room looked packed, maybe because it was a small office as were the rest of the offices in the building, probably because the building itself was small, housing only twenty cops and detectives.

  They were all silent because Hooper had just finished telling them that along with Hennessey’s, Leyton’s and Blakemore’s there was one other set of fingerprints on the raincoat, unknown prints, in other words not in the system. Leyton had said that Miss Faraday’s were obviously the unknown and they all agreed.